The Zone Of Pure Rowing

The Zone of Pure Rowing

Like toy blocks tossed,
Higgledy-piggledy,
On the floor of a nursery,
The jumble of colorful
Buildings tumbled along the shore
Of the river, rowed
By the rower in a trance
of flight, flight past
All he rowed, the rower
Not even conscious of himself
He had shed when he attained
The zone of pure rowing.

Philip Kuepper
(25 September, 2011)